


Sweetie, You Had Me

by Trundia



Series: A Hotter Touch [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy!Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:38:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4079923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trundia/pseuds/Trundia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafael wanted a show. Something to remember. And that's exactly what he's going to give him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetie, You Had Me

                The light on the camera turns red and Stiles knows that it's show time. It’s set up a few feet from the dirty, undistinguishable, hotel bed. He smiles to Rafael, who's standing behind the tripod and sets himself up on the bed.

                He pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the corner. He looks to Rafael for approval and earns a gracious nod.

                He sits his back against the headboard and closes his eyes, trying to relax himself. He can pretend the camera isn't there. He can pretend that it's just him and Rafael, that no one will see this.

                Rafael wanted a show. Something to remember.

                And that's exactly what he's going to give him.

                Stiles slides his hand beneath his boxers, rubbing himself gently before pulling his cock out from the fabric. He slides his fingers over the tip, stroking himself until his cock is hard and pulsing. Rafael is watching him with a stare that Stiles himself has only seen a handful of times. He's telling Stiles that he's precious, something to hold dear. That he can't, for the life of him, figure out why Stiles is here for him. Doing this for _him._

Stiles knows why. He knows that Rafael may fuck him like an animal, but he treats him like porcelain. He holds Stiles when he can, pulling hair and marking skin like Stiles is his. Like he wants other people to know just how _taken_ Stiles is. But most importantly, he fills a void within Stiles, an empty darkness left over from the Nemeton, the Nogitsune, whatever hell he's put through this week.

                He's stroked himself into complete hardness, squeezing his dick at the base to stop himself from coming too soon. He takes this opportunity to pull his boxers off, leaving him completely naked. Completely exposed.

                He sees Rafael shift his weight, swallowing his commands. _"I want you to show me. I want you to show me what you think I want."_ Rafael's not supposed to say anything. He's just supposed to guess what Rafael wants. To show him.

                Well, it's not so much a guess. He doesn't understand why the camera is there, but he won't question it. He's never questioned anything like this with Rafael. Maybe in the real world, where Rafael is trying to arrest his friends, he'll challenge him 'til hell or high water. But here? He keeps his questions to a bare minimum, instead doing pretty much anything Rafael asks of him.

                The only time he'd rejected a command was with the blindfold. As much as he trusts Rafael in their _situation,_ he can't stand total darkness. He feels as he did when the Nogitsune had power over him. Powerless. Out of control. Scared.

                He flips over onto his front, rising up to his hands and knees. He feels completely exposed now. He can't see the camera at all, instead he chooses to look over his shoulder to Rafael, who seems to be palming himself over his jeans. "Is this good?" He asks.

                Of course it is.

                "Do you want me like this? Opening myself up for you. Practically begging for it." He moves forward a little bit, just enough to  support himself without his right hand. He slides the hand behind his back, circling a finger over his dry hole. The sensation of touching himself isn't as novel as it used to be. He's gotten so used to Rafael's thick fingers, pushing in with an expert hand, pulling back when Stiles is on the brink of coming. He's not done this to himself in awhile.

                Rafael quickly throws a small bottle of lube over to Stiles, prepared for what's coming next. Stiles opens the cap quickly and spreads a small amount over a few fingers. His hands returns to his hole, practically pleading for Rafael.

                Rafael has mentioned this many times- watching Stiles' hole open up for him, pink and soft, trying to swallow  Rafael's fingers. This time, he just has his own.

                He sweaty and nervous, he can't even imagine what he looks like. One finger in is relatively easy, his entrance already used to the feeling. "God, I'm still stretched. You did that to me, you know that?" When he pulls the finger out, he can feel some of the lube drip out of him. He slides two fingers in this time, a better stretch, but not enough. _Not what he wants._

Not what he needs.

                "Please. I want- god, _please._ " He begs Rafael, pathetically so. His voice is raw, his mouth thick and dry, completely unprepared. "Want your cock in me."

                He slides in a third finger, twisting them inside himself, trying to reach his prostate, but he's not at the right angle. He can never get it himself the way Rafael can, unforgiving and relentless. He crooks his fingers, shifting his whole body so that his ass is completely in the air now, chest pressed up against the bed.

                " _Daddy, please,_ just please fuck me, oh-" It took awhile before Stiles could call Rafael daddy without thinking about his dad. Or Scott. Or that he's fucking Scott's dad. But once he stopped thinking- once Rafael made him stop thinking- it came almost naturally to him.

                God, the sounds he's making. He'd be embarrassed if he couldn't see Rafael. Couldn't see him watching Stiles like a predator, marking each movement with his eyes. He quirks his mouth into a smirk, knowing exactly what Stiles wants. But he won't give it.

                Rafael didn't want himself on camera.

                " _It's not safe. If someone ever saw this- I'd be dead. It doesn't matter anyway, I just want to see you. I want to be able to watch this, even when you're older, even when you hate me. I want this video as a reminder of the way you want me now."_

Stiles is supposed to be making noises, speaking dirty. He's never been particularly good at it, despite his general no-filter mouth. But he'll try, _just_ for Rafael. "Oh, god, I'm so- please, I want- daddy, I need,- oh- c'mon." He groans when he changes the pace of his fingers, trying a quick and dirty pace, trying to reach a point of no return.

                His left hand lets go of the bed, reaching beneath his body to stroke his cock. He can pretend the fingers breaching his hole are Rafael's, trying to match the pace Rafael sets. He tries so _hard,_ but he can't get it.

                "I'm trying-please-I've been a good boy. Want you. _Need_ you." He jerks himself harder, faster, trying to get himself off. His body is trembling, waiting for his cock to just _finish_ already. He wants this to be done.

                At the same time, he doesn't.

                Sometimes, Stiles thinks he'd lay naked in bed all day, waiting for Rafael just to fuck him, if it's what the older man wanted. If he thought it would please him, he'd just lie here, begging for the next time he'll be fucked. "I'd do this forever, if you asked. You don't- _oh-_ you don't need to film me. I would- _fuck_ \- I'd do anything you asked."

                His fingers move at an alarming rate, trying to desperately to match whatever rhythm Rafael would set.

                "I want you so bad right now, please, just- I want my fingers to be your cock. Want you- filling me up, fucking me deep, all the time. _Please."_ He begs and begs, hoping Rafael will give up. Will step in front of the camera and fuck him like a beast, hard and fast and dirty, filling that void Stiles so desperately wants rid of. Stiles wouldn't mind it, if Rafael was on camera with him. He wouldn't mind if he could watch this years down the line, if Rafael did.

                _"After you're done- after you've finished yourself off, showing me exactly what I want, I'll fuck you like you want. Like you deserve. Fuck your tight hole while I play the video of you in the background, so you can see exactly what a little slut you are when you're begging for me."_

                His begging is pathetic and now it's infinite, the memory of riding his fingers 'til he comes will be on camera forever.

                For Rafael to watch whenever he wants.

                Even when Stiles _hates_ him, Rafael will know that at one point in time, Stiles begged for him.

                Some part of Stiles, the sick twisted part that would stay in a hotel room forever just to be fucked, says that it's okay. That he gets off on it. That he wants Rafael to hold it over his head forever.

                Even when he hates him.

                "Please, oh god- Raf-" He's not supposed to say his name, so he cuts it off before he can finish the word. "I need you. I can't- _fuck_ \- don't think I can come without you inside me. I want it so bad. Please fuck me, _please."_

                Rafael is still standing, his hands inside his jeans, stroking himself. He's not doing it to get off, he's doing it to prepare himself, Stiles can tell. He know the looks Rafael gets when he's about to fuck Stiles. He can see it from a mile away.

                Stiles doesn't stop stroking himself, doesn't stop pushing and pulling his fingers from his hole, the squelching sound from the lube driving him crazy. His face is smashed against the bed, ass high in the air. He grips his cock tight, faster than before, coming in stripes on the comforter.

                Stiles is given seconds of release before Rafael turns off the camera, almost immediately after Stiles comes. Rafael pulls Stiles fingers out of him, pushing his cock in easily.

                This is what Stiles wants. To be fucked with a reckless abandon. His cock is long in length and average in girth, filling Stiles up in every way he wants. The only sound is Rafael's hips slapping against Stiles, a sound that Stiles practically dreams of. The sounds coming from Rafael's mouth are obscene to say the least.

                Thank god for teenage refractory, because Stile's is already up again. He cock is sensitive, though, he doesn't bother stroking it. Instead, he gives Rafael want he wants. He can be just as obscene. "Oh, yes-oh god, daddy, god I love this. You. Your fucking cock. Harder. C'mon. _Please."_

Rafael speeds up in pace, his body tight and flush against Stiles. "Wonder what your dad would say about that, huh? The sheriff's only son begging like a fucking bitch in heat. C'mon Stiles, beg for me. Beg for your daddy to fuck you the way you want. _Beg me."_

_"Please,_ I need this. Need _you._ " Stiles grips the pillow beneath him, nails digging deep into the fabric. Rafael runs his hands, rough and calloused, up Stiles' back and neck, until he reaches his head, gripping Stiles' hair. He pulls his head back against Rafael's shoulder, giving him a sloppy kiss to the side of his mouth. Stiles loops an arm around Rafael's neck, forcing their bodies closer, Rafael blanketed over his back. "Daddy-" his voice is strained and ragged from crying out for Rafael earlier.

                "You've been such a good boy, Stiles. Tell me what you want." Rafael keeps on hand gripped in his hair, but the other slides down Stiles' chest finding its way to his cock.

                "You. Want- want you to come inside me. Plug me up. Keep you inside me for hours."

                "Yeah, that's it, baby." His thrusts become quick and erratic. "So good for daddy." Rafael strokes Stiles' sensitive cock. The oversensitive nerves from his spent cock rush up his spine. He feels Rafael still behind him, two shallow thrusts, and then warmth filling him up.

                Rafael’s come inside him. He doesn’t care that much, loving the feeling of Rafael inside of him. Rafael pulls his cock out, replacing them with two fingers that dip into him, come sticking to his fingers.

                “You want this, baby? I came inside you— you want to taste me, too?” Stiles nods and Rafael reaches around his front, placing his fingers against Stiles’ lips. Stiles opens his mouth and sucks on the fingers, the bitter saltiness of Rafael sharp against his tongue.

                “What do good boys say, Stiles?”

                “Thank you, daddy.”


End file.
